


Rose Dancing

by fannishliss



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from a prompt photo of the dancing feet: she tossed her hips, begging him with her eyes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose Dancing

**Image from a Fairy Tale: Rose Dancing,** G, Nine/Rose, 390 words.  
 _she tossed her hips, begging him with her eyes_

_from the prompt photo of the dancing feet_

  
Rose danced.

Up on her toes,  a belled anklet ringing out every step, Rose danced.

Stamping, clapping, her belled hipscarf ringing in time, Rose danced.

Unmoved, the cold-eyed man stared and stared.

Rose felt as if knives were cutting into her feet.  She felt as if knives were stabbing into her lungs.  But still she danced, struggling to thaw the ice in the man's frozen stare.

The strange musicians played like clockwork from behind their masks.

Serving girls carried trays of tasty tidbits to the man, his cold glance passing over them, uncaring.

Ladies offered him to drink from flagons, beaded with condensation, from dusty bottles of blood-red wine, from steaming ewers, and still he refused.  

Rose danced on, her throat nearly cracking with thirst, and still the music played.  

Rose began to stumble.  Her jingles marred the time.

The man began to frown.  

Summoning up her last bit of strength, she tossed her hips, begging him with her eyes to rise up and join her in the dance.

His frown deepened.  Had he finally awakened from the strange spell of this ticktock place?

Rose urged her pounding feet toward him as she spun and clapped, her hair in tangles around her face.

The ladies and serving girls smiled their painted smiles.  

Finally in a whirl too fast for her fading spirit, Rose lost her footing and tumbled to the floor, landing in a heap at the foot of the man's chair.  

She lay there, panting, staring at the feather painted onto the man's bare foot (twin to the one on her own).  If only she had the strength to press a kiss to the arch of that fine-boned foot before the servants dragged her out of the ballroom, out of his life forever.

She raised her eyes to his, wishing he could see her, if only for a heartbeat.

And as their eyes met, he shook his head, frowned to see her sprawled there on the floor.

He reached down and took her hand.  

Life flowed back into her, the compulsion to dance letting go of her weary limbs and twitching extremities.  

He pulled her up, his eyes full of fire.

"Run!" he said.

They ran from the painted ladies and ticktock men, empty palace hallways echoing with laughter and bells and the slapping soles of two pairs of feet.  

 

 


End file.
